Mystery Man(52)

I had to admit, it was hopeful, but I would only admit that to myself.

Therefore, I didn’t speak.

He grinned again and answered, “No, she’s makin’ eggs and bacon.”

Meredith made good eggs and bacon but her donuts were better.

“Do I have eggs and bacon to make?”

“Apparently, since she’s doin’ it in her nightgown and your robe and she doesn’t have a car and neither do you so it’s doubtful she went out and hit a store.”

I probably did have bacon and eggs. At least eggs, they were a standard ingredient in all kinds of cookie dough.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

“Some guy named Rick came an hour ago with a change of clothes then took your Dad to work.”

See!

“My Dad’s a nut,” I muttered.

He lifted a hand and nabbed a lock of my hair, tugging it then his hand fell while I thought that was a sweet thing to do.

Hawk could be sweet. Hawk was a cuddler. Hawk saved my life or, at least, delivered me safely out of a burning building.

All three for the pro side of the Should I Explore Things with Cabe “Hawk” Delgado List.

Shit.

That was what I was thinking before he asked a question that would explain why he was being sweet.

“You want the good news or the bad news?”

Great. There was bad news.

“Can I have the good news and you tell me the bad news in the next millennium?”

“Sure,” he agreed and I didn’t think that was good.

“The bad news,” I mumbled.

His face got serious. “Ginger got away.”

My face, I was sure, got confused. “What?”

“She got away.”

“From what? The fire?”

“That and the guys who firebombed your house to smoke her out.”

Oh shit.

“They didn’t firebomb my house to kill her?”

“Babe, my car was at your curb.”

“So?”